


Three Times Natemare Met The Theorist And One Time He Met Matthew Patrick

by candied_galaxies



Series: dumb gay meta!au [1]
Category: Game Theory - Fandom, Natepat - Fandom, natewantstobattle
Genre: 3+1, M/M, its so gay, superhero au, why yes matt is heavily inspired by The Question how did you know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-08-07 07:54:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7706647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/candied_galaxies/pseuds/candied_galaxies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Nate is tsundere and doesn't want to admit that he maybe kinda sorta likes the hero.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Times Natemare Met The Theorist And One Time He Met Matthew Patrick

**Author's Note:**

> lol this is so fluffy. idk how i did it, but i did. originally posted on tumblr. 
> 
> ALSO!!!!! GO CHECK OUT THIS AMAZING FANART THE-SNARLER GAVE ME: http://the-snarler.tumblr.com/post/147492944814/mylifedependsoncandy-im-sorry-this-took-so

–1–  
The first time they meet is while Nate is pulling a heist. It’s going good, so good, Nate’s is expecting a cape to bust in and stop him. Technically, he’s not wrong. He just didn’t expect…this.

“This,” is a man in a large greenish gray trench coat and fedora that seemingly has no face. He’s staring at Nate in a (what seems to Nate, anyway) thoughtful way. He half expects the man to simply be a figment of his imagination. Instead, the man starts walking towards Nate and muttering under his breath. He only stops walking once he’s directly in front of Nate. Normally, he’s fighting or making a getaway by now. The sheer oddity of the situation keeps him rooted in place.

“Uh” he starts, “Can I help you?” He raises an eyebrow underneath his domino mask. The other man goes silent and stares at Nate (well, he assumes so. He can’t really tell.) for an uncomfortable amount of time. Eventually, the man nods.  
“You’re Natemare, correct?” Nate opens his moth to respond, but the other man beats him to it. “Of course you are. I did research. Hm, I would’ve expected more….government affiliation. Never mind, they wouldn’t want the public thinking them involved.” The man had muttered out the last part before continuing. “Anyway, I’m The Theorist, but you may call me The Theorist. I don’t allow nicknames, they could be trigger words for the government’s mind control waves being brodcasted.” Nate’s mind had gone blank during the man’s-The Theorist’s- ramblings. “Ah…okay.” It’s phrased more like a question than a statement, hesitant and soft. The Theorist nods, then begins to speak again. “Well, while I introduced myself, I cuffed you to me and alerted the authorities.” Nate sputters and looks down to see that, yes, in fact he was handcuffed to this lunatic. “Why would you do that?” he asks, dumbfounded. “I want to keep watch on the police so cuffing you to me was the most favorable solution.” He sounds so smug and content with himself and Nate wants to punch him right in the jaw. Instead he grits his teeth glares as the police trickle in. He refuses to acknowledge the part of him that found the rambling almost cute.

–2–

The second time Nate met The Theorist, he had just broken out of Belle Reve and was laying low in the shadier parts of LA. He doesn’t have his mask on, but he’s still weary. He’s toward his small hotel room but a man in a familiar greenish gray trench coat walks in front oh him. Nate skids to a stop and pushes down his annoyance (and the fluttering in his chest) in favor for civilian typical confusion. “Um, who are you?” he asks, furrowing his eyebrows and frowning. The Theorist hums out a noncommittal greeting and starts rubbing his chin. “Natemare, I’m glad I found you.” he says and Nate’s heart stops beating for a second before he’s on the defense. “W-Who?” he asks. “The theorist huffs and shakes his head. “Really,” he starts and wow, Nate’s only just realized how almost annoyingly high pitched and prepubescent his voice sounds. “I appreciate you making your alter ego a pun; made it much more easier to find you.”

Nate groans and glares at The Theorist. He contemplates if using his powers is worth getting rid of this nuisance and decided fuck it, it’s very worth it. He starts singing a soft tune that would normally have anyone withing hearing distance under his control. The Theorist stays still and unreadable. Nate’s expression bitters and he glares for what feels like the hundredth time at the other man. “Why aren’t you under my control?!” he grounds out. The Theorist laughs softly and answers back cheerily. “Oh, I can’t hear anything. There are plugs in my ears to ensure no government can mind control me using sound. I’m reading your lips.” Nate gets the feeling the idiot is smiling and his glare increases tenfold. “And besides,” The Theorist continues with a wave of his hand, “I’m a high level Psionic. I could’ve blocked your powers out easily.” Nate’s about ready to explode at this point but holds it all back.

“What did you want?” he asks, rolling his eyes. The Theorist perks up. “ Oh, I wanted to discuss my theories with you! Markiplier and The Completionist were too busy and Septiceye didn’t want to talk. So, I found you!” Nate stares at the man with utter disbelief. This is it. He’s dead. He died and now he’s in hell. (he also refuses to acknowledge how flattered he is that The Theorist thought of him) “I would’ve gone to Pro Woman but her area of the city is riddled with government spies and androids.” The Theorist continues his rambling, oblivious to the growing irritation in Nate. “Please,” he says, about ready to strangle the other man. “Stop talking. I will honestly turn myself in if you stop talking.” The Theorist does stop, and instead looks at him expectantly.(again, Nate’s assumes so. He can’t tell.) Nate groans but dutifully starts walking towards the county police station, The Theorist close behind. Nate could almost swear he was smirking. He does not think it’s cute. He doesn’t.

–3–

The third time was not a charm. Nate did not magically fall in love with The Theorist. His anger did not change overnight. Which is exactly why when they meet for the third time, he does not blush like a schoolgirl. He glares at him, because he hates The Theorist.

He’s atop a large tower, relaxing after a quick heist. He closes his eyes for a few moment, enjoying the warm breeze. When he opens them again, The Theorist is staring at him. “Jesus Christ!” he yelps, leaning away. His face (does NOT) heats up but he manages to glare at the man anyway. The Theorist chuckles and stops telekinetically holding himself in the air, instead lowering himself next to Nate. He doesn’t say anything. He simply sits himself next to Nate is if this was a normal occurrence for him.

It was….nice.

Hesitantly, Nate slid his hand atop The Theorist’s and holds in a breath. When The Theorist doesn’t pull away, he lets it out and allows himself a small smile. He doesn’t want to admit to himself that maybe he doesn’t entirely hate The Theorist, but this is nice. Very nice.

–+1–

Nate walked into the quaint little coffee shop tired and ready to collapse. He quickly orders a simple black coffee and sits down in a nearby booth, resting his head on the table and letting loose a muffled groan.

“Bad day, huh?” Nate whips his head up at breakneck speeds. That voice…!  
The speaker was a man with soft brown curls and equally brown eyes. He was smiling and looking down at Nate so fondly, Nate was almost certain this was The Theorist. “The Theorist….?” he whispered, staring at the man with narrowed eyes. The man’s smile broadened and there was a glint in his eyes. “Call me Matthew, Matthew Patrick.

"I’m calling you MatPat,” Nate smiled.


End file.
